


We Are Led (To Those Who Help Us Most To Grow)

by nightshifted



Category: Glee
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-29
Updated: 2011-07-29
Packaged: 2017-10-21 22:51:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/230735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightshifted/pseuds/nightshifted
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some things in life, Quinn learns, are pretty cruel. Like Coach Sylvester's armpit-smelling punishments, or the president of the celibacy club having a baby out of wedlock at sixteen. But life is about the lemonade, not the lemons, or whatever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Are Led (To Those Who Help Us Most To Grow)

Some things in life, Quinn learns, are pretty cruel. Like Coach Sylvester's armpit-smelling punishments, or the president of the celibacy club having a baby out of wedlock at sixteen.

But life is about the lemonade, not the lemons, or whatever.

The having a baby thing? That's a pretty damn big and sour lemon.

\--

If Quinn has learned nothing else in the past few months, she knows this with absolute certainty: moving in with Mercedes is a new beginning she desperately needs.

It's not that living with either Finn or Puck was strictly _awful_ , because it wasn't, but both their mothers tended to take every opportunity to turn Quinn's presence into either a lesson or a spectacle.

Exhibit A: "Oh, Quinn, sweetie, those books look heavy. You shouldn't be carrying heavy things when you're, you know." Mrs. Hudson looks pointedly at her son. Finn stands there dumbly for a full ten seconds before he fumbles Quinn's textbooks out of her arms.

Exhibit B: "Noah, will you stop being a delinquent for one minute and help Quinn with those groceries? Canned beef stew goes on the top shelf and I don't want Quinn stretching that high. It's not good for the baby." Mrs. Puckerman lowers her voice. "Are you sure she's not Jewish? She kind of looks like she could be Jewish."

It had become exhausting. Yeah, Quinn gets that they had been doing her a favor by housing her, but she isn't an invalid or anything, and doesn't appreciate being treated like one. So as much as she doesn't know exactly what to expect from the Joneses, she knows from the first introductions that she won't be made to feel like a leper under their roof, and for that, she is infinitely grateful.

Mercedes leads Quinn upstairs to her new room, and Quinn peers inside. Mercedes enters, motioning for Quinn to follow her. Quinn steps inside self-consciously, wheeling her suitcase behind her.

The room is painted a drab dark gray and a few cardboard boxes are still stacked in the corner, but a full set of furniture lines the walls and new sheets are pulled across the mattress. Already, that's more than Quinn's had in the past few months.

Mercedes is smiling at her from the bedside table. "Well, what d'you think?"

"It's wonderful," Quinn breathes.

Mercedes looks around at the empty walls. "We can get this place repainted, get you some decor. My dad's already tossed in a fifty, and I got some leftover birthday money…"

"Oh, Mercedes," Quinn interrupts. "I can't accept that. You've already done more than enough by letting me stay here."

Mercedes's hands find her hips. "Girl, this place looks like a dungeon." She scrunches up her face. "Smells a little like one, too. Besides, Kurt's already started picking out swatches."

Quinn observes the room for a moment. "Won't your brother mind?"

"Nah, already asked him. He's cool. He goes to school out of state, only visits on Christmas, so he won't be using this place." Mercedes steps toward Quinn and tilts her head to study her. "Anyway," she adds gently, "it's important to us that this feels like a home."

Quinn holds back the tears straining at the corners of her eyes and looks down. "Thanks, Mercedes," she manages to murmur.

Mercedes only smiles. "We got your back."

Mr. Jones appears in the doorway behind Quinn. "How's everything going up here, ladies?"

Quinn turns around; Mercedes replies, "Great. We were just talking about scrubbing all the man out of this room."

Mercedes's father, a tall, bespectacled man with dark skin and blindingly white teeth – he is a dentist, after all – laughs skeptically. "Good luck with that."

And Quinn, in all her perpetual helplessness, genuinely laughs along.

\--

Living with Mercedes is good. Great, even. The Joneses are kind and generous, and despite her baby bump preventing her from finding a comfortable position, Quinn begins sleeping through the night.

The downside of living with Mercedes? Quinn sees a lot more of the Glee kids outside of school than she'd ideally like to. Sure, she's gotten over her superiority complex, and she considers them friends, but when she finds herself on the floor of her room surrounded by color samples and listening to Kurt and Rachel arguing over whether flamingo or cerise trimming goes best with 'tea rose' wall paint, it feels a little surreal.

"Who even invited you?" Kurt asks indignantly. "If I were you, I would invest in a colorblindness exam."

"For your information," Rachel huffs, "my color vision has been tested to be in the 99th percentile. And I was just dropping by to give Mercedes some sheet music. We're working on a duet for Glee Club."

Kurt glares dramatically at Mercedes as though horribly betrayed. "Mercedes?"

Mercedes, seated on Quinn's bed, doesn't look up from the magazine she's flipping through. Her shoulders rise and fall. "Girl can sing," she offers as an explanation.

Kurt turns back to Rachel. "I will not have my stylish selections be undermined by someone who dresses like a circus chimpanzee in heat."

Rachel stands her ground. "Insult me all you want, but it's _obvious_ that flamingo compliments tea rose much better than cerise."

" _Cerise_ ," Kurt shoots back, rolling the word over his tongue, "is an elegant color befitting of this room."

Mercedes rises from the bed and steps between Rachel and Kurt. "Enough, you guys. It's Quinn's room; she has the last say."

Kurt and Rachel both spin to look expectantly at Quinn.

"I… don't know," she replies with disinterest. "Does it even matter?"

Kurt gasps, and Rachel says sternly, "Quinn. This could be the most important decision you make before you go into labor."

Though mildly offended, Quinn decides to pick one at random. "Okay, flamingo," she says, because Kurt had pronounced the other one with a French accent and she was not about to attempt to mimic it.

"Yes!" Rachel claps her hands together and begins jumping up and down in excitement.

Kurt looks about ready to clock both of them. "This is ridiculous. I'll come back when Rachel isn't here." He narrows his eyes. "Don't any of you dare put flamingo on the walls before then."

Kurt storms out of the room; Mercedes runs after him.

Rachel smiles brightly at Quinn. "Thank you."

"I didn't do it for you," she says before she can stop herself. Old habits die hard. Besides, it's not like she's lying. She hadn't even meant to pick Rachel's; she'd just wanted to shut them both up before the sounds of their shrieking induced labor.

"Well, either way, you made the right choice," Rachel continues, holding up two color samples and overlapping them. "See? Isn't that much better than cerise?"

Quinn doesn't answer her, and Rachel takes it as an invitation to sit down beside her on the floor.

"Figured out what you're going to do yet?" she asks, her eyes tracing the deep curve of Quinn's belly.

Quinn scowls. "Do you have no sense of discretion?"

Rachel startles. "I just thought, since we were friends now…" She trails off. "I didn't mean to offend you."

Quinn watches Rachel's retreating form for a moment before pressing a hand against her forearm to stop her. "I… don't know what I'm going to do," she admits.

"You'll know."

"Yeah," Quinn says dismissively.

"I'm serious, Quinn. You are smart, and—"

"Not smart enough to keep my legs closed, apparently," she counters self-deprecatingly.

"Will you stop beating yourself over this? Hey."

Quinn looks up.

"Nobody who's anybody gets to where they are without adversity," Rachel says firmly. "I would know."

Quinn peers at her skeptically. "That's somehow not comforting in the least."

"You're going to be somebody, Quinn," Rachel insists with an optimistic smile. "Whatever you want to be." When Quinn says nothing, Rachel adds, "You shouldn't have to feel so alone."

"I _am_ alone." Quinn tries to say it bitterly, hardening the words, but it comes out sounding kind of sad and pathetic.

Rachel is quiet for a moment. "We're here for you, you know, to help out however we can. I didn't come around much before because I didn't want Finn and Noah's mothers to get the wrong idea, but Quinn, I care."

Quinn recalls Rachel's words from what seems like forever ago: _In a couple of months, that cheerleading uniform isn't going to fit, and we're going to be all you have left._

Quinn remembers the denial that'd flared up within her. She remembers thinking that nothing would change, because she was _special_. She remembers resenting Rachel for assuming. And now, after her world had crumbled all around her, in a cruel twist of irony, she finds herself drawing comfort from the one person she does not deserve to take anything from. Rachel was right. She's been right all along. Quinn's friends had disappeared faster than her popularity.

Quinn hates Rachel a little bit for saying these things, despite everything.

"Rachel," she says, and the words slip from her lips before she has a chance to consider them, "what's it like to know your mother gave you up?" Her hand subconsciously slides to her belly.

"Now who's the one without any discretion?" Rachel replies good-naturedly, and a smile tugs at the corners of Quinn's lips. "I don't know," Rachel continues. "It's hard sometimes, but after having met Shelby, I realize how fortunate I am to have two dads who love me."

Quinn considers this for a moment. "I don't want my baby to go through what you had to."

"I've made peace with Shelby's choices," Rachel reassures her. "She was driven by ambition, and given my own determination to succeed at all costs, I can't fault her for wanting that."

"Not that." Quinn looks away, her words laced with a quiet guilt she cannot shake. "I was horrible to you, Rachel. We all were, but especially me. I want to be able to protect my baby from people like that, like me."

Rachel's features soften. "Quinn, I've forgiven you. You need to forgive yourself."

Quinn doesn't move her hand from Rachel's forearm until Mercedes returns ten minutes later, sans Kurt.

They end up going with cerise over flamingo. It's the only way Kurt is willing to enter Quinn's room ever again, and Rachel agrees to the compromise because Quinn asks nicely.

\--

Rachel begins dropping by more often, and eventually even abandons the pretense that she's there to practice her duet with Mercedes.

The truth is, the Joneses are prominent members of Lima's small black community, often organizing cultural and religious activities, and though Quinn's faith had always been a significant portion of her life pre-pregnancy, she always politely declines when Mercedes invites her to tag along on Sunday mornings.

It becomes Rachel's favorite time to visit. And Quinn… well, to her surprise, she doesn't hate it. She kind of looks forward to it, actually, not that she'd admit it to anyone.

One morning, Quinn answers the door with a series of cables clutched in her hands.

Rachel walks in with a smile. "What're those for?"

"Mercedes's dad dragged the old TV from the basement up to my room," Quinn replies, leading Rachel up the stairs. "I'm trying to hook it up to their cable."

"Any success?"

Quinn wags the cables at Rachel. "Apparently the slot for the cable is jammed, and I have to use an old VCR they have lying around to reroute? I don't even know what that means. Rachel, there are _so_ many holes."

Rachel laughs and grabs the cables from Quinn. "This may come as a surprise, but I am quite proficient with home electronics," Rachel states seriously.

Quinn shakes her head as she enters her room in front of Rachel. "Is there anything you _can't_ do?"

"Sew," Rachel replies with a crooked smile.

A battered television set sits on top of a small wooden table at the foot of Quinn's bed. Beside it on the floor, a bulky VCR lies dormant.

"I didn't know these things still existed," Rachel murmurs to herself as she crouches down behind the set and begins to study the back, twisting the cable absentmindedly between her fingers. She chews at her bottom lip, looking back and forth between the ends of the cables and the apertures on the back of the television and VCR.

There's something strangely intriguing about watching Rachel work, and Quinn finds a comfortable spot on the bed to sit and observe.

"Are you sure you know what you're doing?"

"Shh, the master demands silence."

A few minutes later, Rachel actually does manage to plug everything in correctly, and Quinn presses the power button on the TV set.

One of those trash talk shows flickers on, and against her better judgment, Quinn doesn't change the channel. On screen, crying women explain how they'd bound their own children and locked them in closets to keep them quiet. How they hurt their babies because they themselves were hurting, because their toddlers looked just like their deadbeat fathers. It makes Quinn sick because the women are despicable monsters, but on some level, the nausea she feels goes deeper.

Rachel squeezes herself onto the bed between Quinn and the television, reaching out to turn it off. "Quinn."

"Do you think I'll be like one of them?" Quinn asks quietly, her eyes glassy.

"No, never," Rachel replies immediately.

"The terrifying thing," Quinn admits, more to herself than to Rachel, "is that in some sick, awful way, I understand what these women are going through."

"You would never abuse your child, Quinn," Rachel says matter-of-factly. "Never."

Fat teardrops form at the corners of Quinn's eyes, but she holds them back. "All those things I did to you… it's in me, Rachel."

Rachel stands up so fast it nearly makes Quinn dizzy. Rachel's hands find her hips, and there's a quiet fury in her eyes. "Stop it. Those women are batshit _insane_. You have a heart, Quinn." Rachel drops her arms to the sides of her body. "Come here."

From her seat on the bed, Quinn hesitates. "What?"

"Stand up and come over here," Rachel clarifies.

Quinn pushes herself off the bed and steps up to Rachel. She tosses her a questioning look. "Okay, now what?"

"Hit me."

"Excuse me?"

Rachel's hand wraps around Quinn's wrist, and she pulls it up to eye-level. "Go ahead. Hit me."

Quinn flinches. "I'm not going to hit you, Rachel."

Rachel holds her head up high, unrelenting. "Why not?"

"I—" Quinn laughs nervously and shrugs out of Rachel's grasp, feeling foolish. "For a thousand reasons."

Rachel smiles faintly. "Those are the same reasons you aren't going to hurt your baby."

A few stray tears roll down Quinn's cheek at the harsh realization, and she brushes them away with the back of her hand. There is nothing adequate or sufficient in her words, but she tries. "Thanks, Rachel," she says, instead of _I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm so sorry_.

\--

New Directions comes in last at regionals.

It's over. It's all over. Glee Club. The singing, the dancing; the laughter, the heartache. Their journey comes to an end and it _hurts_ worse than anything else any of them has ever experienced.

The bus ride home is suffocating.

Usually a bottomless fountain of encouragement, an inconsolable Mr. Schuester sits at the front of the bus with Artie and his wheelchair. Tina sniffs occasionally into Artie's shoulder, their hands clasped together on his lap. Behind them, Mercedes and Kurt set hard eyes and tight jaws, only ever moving to wipe uselessly at their damp cheeks. Further back, Mike and Matt stare down at their shoes, motionless. Even Santana cries silently into Brittany's Cheerios uniform as she holds her.

Rachel and Finn are seated together across the aisle from Quinn. They are as quiet as the rest, but Finn's right hand is firmly wrapped around Rachel's left, and Quinn's chest suddenly feels tight.

Quinn looks to Puck, seated next to her. He is turned away, his attention out the window. Quinn lowers her eyes, spanning her fingertips across her stomach. Through the dreadful silence, she focuses on her breathing. If there's one thing she's learned from Mr. Schue's manipulative ex-wife, it'd be prenatal breathing exercises.

And then. The baby. Kicks.

 _Hard_.

It's not the first time it's happened, but it's by far the most powerful one she's ever felt. Adrenaline pumping, Quinn reaches across the aisle without thinking and pulls Rachel's free hand toward her belly and presses it urgently against the bump.

"Quinn, what— _oh_. Oh, _Quinn_." And Rachel's face glows with pride, dimples full force.

The rest of the bus turns toward the commotion. Puck's arm slides behind Quinn's neck, his other hand gliding to her stomach, but he only catches the end of the last kick. The grin on his face tells her that he finds it miraculous anyway.

Santana and Brittany are hovering over the back of Quinn's seat in an attempt to get a better view.

Santana, remnants of dried tears still staining her cheeks, cranes her neck around Quinn's head. "What's going on? Is your baby coming or something?"

Brittany's long blond hair falls around Quinn's face. "Maybe if you squeeze your thighs together really tight…" Brittany offers.

"She's not due for another month," Quinn replies with a short, almost teary laugh. "She's kicking."

At that, a flurry of hands reaches for Quinn's extended belly. And Quinn would have lectured about boundaries and personal space, except everyone seems genuinely _elated_ about the news, a welcome change from the doom and gloom that'd been sketched across their faces moments earlier, so she lets palms and fingertips skirt her stomach. But the baby, seemingly shying away from the attention, doesn't kick again, and eventually, interest wanes.

Quinn doesn't stop looking at Rachel, who is mirroring her modest smile with an incredibly vibrant one.

"You're having a baby," Rachel says with reverent wonder.

And though she's known for over seven months, nothing makes her feel as alive as the way Rachel says it, eyes sparkling and cheeks flushed. Quinn breaks out into a huge grin.

Rachel holds Quinn's hand across the aisle for the rest of the ride.

\--

"I can't believe it," Rachel squeals. "We have another year!"

And she's laughing; a wild, uninhibited laugh that seems to span to the next galaxy.

Quinn knows that while Glee Club is the greatest thing about all their pathetic high school existences, it's most important to Rachel, who works the hardest and smiles the widest and sings her damn heart out with the most beautiful, mature voice.

When Rachel laughs, Quinn takes in the sight of her and the corners of her lips twitch, and she's really kind of pretty when she's laughing. Quinn stops just short of telling her so, because Santana and Brittany are within earshot, and while Brittany would let her off with a shrug and an absentminded, "Not really," Santana would never let her live it down. At the back of her mind, Quinn still cares about things like that, so she settles for observing and what feels something like biding time.

Rachel is talking a mile a minute, about song choices and dance routines for next year, and only Tina is really listening to her. Other than Quinn, that is, but even she gets lost in the rapid-fire words shooting out of Rachel's mouth.

As soon as the meeting comes to an end, Quinn overcompensates for staring at Rachel the whole time by jumping out of her seat and nearly running out the choir room. The being inconspicuous thing, Quinn decides she has to work on, but she figures it looks enough like she's getting the hell out of there, so she figures she's safe.

But she'd gotten a ride with Mercedes, so she ends up having to hang around anyway. And when Rachel appears in the hallway before any hint of Mercedes, Quinn calls out to her.

There's a skip in Rachel's step as she approaches. "Hello, Quinn."

"I just—" Quinn bites the inside of her cheek, hesitant. _Screw this_. "You're kind of pretty when you laugh." She sees a flash of Cheerios uniform out of the corner of her eye and straightens up. "I'm only telling you because you should probably scowl a little less. It's kind of a shame when you aren't, um, you know."

And despite all of Rachel's self-assurance, she blushes at the compliment. "Thanks, Quinn."

"Yeah," is all Quinn says.

After Rachel leaves, Santana and Brittany, who had been hovering near the lockers across the hall, saunter over.

Quinn braces for the worst, but Santana only leans real close to her and laughs in her ear. "You are so whipped."

Brittany leans her head on Santana's shoulder and smiles sweetly at Quinn. "Yeah, Santana would know."

Santana grimaces at Brittany, and Quinn laughs quietly, because this treating Rachel like an actual human being thing? Is much easier than she thought it'd be, and she kind of wishes she'd figured that out earlier.

\--

Since being kicked out of her own home, Quinn has grown up a lot in a short amount of time. It kind of comes with the territory: get kicked out; grow up quickly. Like an unwritten rule.

Quinn begins to appreciate the little things: bacon for breakfast, and comfortable shoes, and a warm bed to sleep in at night. Also, the big things: Mercedes's friendship, and dancing with Glee Club, and Rachel.

Everything about Rachel. Because Rachel cares, and Rachel loves, and Rachel walks into Quinn's life with a bright smile and an unrelenting enthusiasm and shows her that there is a future beyond this town and this baby. Rachel, Quinn learns, isn't really all that overbearing when she's alone with her.

Rachel makes Quinn want to be a better person, which makes old-Quinn a little nauseous to even admit, but new-Quinn? Well, new-Quinn can deal with that.

What new-Quinn cannot deal with is that she hasn't spoken to her own mother for six months and counting.

"I miss my mom," Quinn admits to Rachel one day.

Rachel looks up from the notebook she'd been scribbling in. "Oh, Quinn…"

"I miss my dad," Quinn continues, "and my sister, and my grams. I miss having a _family_. Don't get me wrong; the Joneses are great. They treat me better than I deserve, but it's not the same."

"Let's go see your parents," Rachel suggests.

Quinn's eyes widen. "No. No way. They made it very clear that they do not want anything to do with me."

"I'll come with you," Rachel insists. "I am very persuasive."

Quinn laughs softly. "I know you are."

"Quinn, I lost my chance with my mother because of time and distance."Rachel touches Quinn's hand lightly. "I don't want that to happen to you."

So Quinn lets Rachel drive her to the Fabray home, and she knows that it's a bad idea as soon as they begin pulling into the driveway. A slow dread creeps over Quinn, because she knows, even before they walk up to the front entrance and Rachel rings the doorbell, that nothing has changed. The Fabrays's perfect house with the perfect garden and the imperfect daughter. Standing in front of the door, everything Quinn had felt the night she'd told her parents the truth for maybe the first time in her existence rushes back, and she flinches.

Rachel is immediately concerned. "Quinn, are you okay?"

"This is a bad idea," Quinn murmurs.

Before Rachel has a chance to respond, the front door opens, and Quinn's mother stumbles at the sight of her visitors.

"Quinn," Mrs. Fabray breathes, her eyes dropping momentarily to Quinn's extended stomach.

Instinctively, Quinn steps forward. "Mom…"

"I shouldn't be—" Quinn's mother looks away and distances herself. "Your father's going to be home soon…"

"Mom," Quinn tries again, "can we—can we talk?"

"No, I'm sorry—" Mrs. Fabray's hand clutches the door. "I think it's best if you leave, sweetie."

Rachel speaks up. "Mrs. Fabray, you're being unfair."

"Excuse me? Who are you?"

Rachel ignores her question. "Quinn would really like to have a relationship with you, and you're rejecting her because she made one bad decision?"

Mrs. Fabray scoffs. "Would your mother react kindly to you getting pregnant at sixteen?"

"I have two gay dads," Rachel replies without thinking.

Quinn cringes. Mrs. Fabray gasps audibly and slams the door shut. Rachel lifts her fist, prepared to knock angrily, when Quinn stops her.

"No, Rachel," Quinn says gently. "I know you have good intentions, but I know my mother. She hasn't changed."

"But—"

"Rachel." Quinn smiles sadly. "You of all people should know that there are people in this place that just don't _get_ it, and will never get it."

Rachel deflates. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have pushed you."

Quinn reaches for Rachel's hand. "Come on," she says, leading her back to the car. "Let's get out of here."

They are both quiet as Rachel pulls out of the Fabray driveway. Halfway to Mercedes's, Rachel breaks the silence.

"Are you upset with me?" she asks, knuckles tightening around the steering wheel.

"No." Quinn pauses thoughtfully. "I'm happy, Rachel, for maybe the first time in my life. Do I wish my mother was different? Of course. But I remember what it felt like to live with her, and with my dad." She fiddles with the hem of her dress. "I needed this visit, if only to remind myself how miserable I was living under their roof." She looks to Rachel and smiles sadly, chest tight. "I'm still going to miss her, but I'd rather have what I have now. Who I have now."

Rachel turns briefly to Quinn and smiles. "That's a very mature way of looking at it. I'm sorry it didn't work out, Quinn."

Quinn exhales. "Yeah, me too."

Rachel puts on some music and begins to sing along. Quinn pretends not to know the words, but mostly, she just wants to hear Rachel's voice, untouched and beautiful. Quinn heart aches a little less.

In the middle of Mercedes's driveway, after Rachel had parked and they'd both exited the vehicle, Quinn pulls Rachel into a tight hug, burying her face into Rachel's hair and breathing in her scent.

"Thanks, Rachel," Quinn murmurs.

Rachel's arms slide around Quinn's midsection. "For what?"

"Just… thank you."

\--

The school year comes to an end, Quinn is fast approaching her due date, and Mercedes's mom starts asking if they should set up a crib in Quinn's room. And even though Puck has been tossing sad puppy eyes her way since regionals, Quinn says no, because she is not raising this baby. Not with Puck, and not with anyone else.

Sunday mornings remain Rachel and Quinn's _thing_ , whatever the thing really is. It's fun though, and Rachel makes Quinn feels good about herself, and it's not exactly like Quinn has people knocking down her door to be friends with her.

But that makes Quinn sound reluctant or ungrateful, and that cannot be further from the truth. Quinn doesn't remember ever having a friend quite like Rachel: unflinchingly honest, fiercely loyal, and unafraid of judgment, everything Quinn wants so much to be. Rachel is also sometimes overbearing and occasionally selfish, but strangely, Quinn finds herself attracted even to Rachel's flaws – the same ones for which Quinn had so mercilessly tormented her all those months ago.

It becomes more than just Sunday mornings, though. It's Friday nights, Rachel's voice carrying a beautiful tune because _hearing perfect pitch develops a baby's musicality, Quinn_. It's Wednesday afternoons, Rachel helping Quinn perfect prenatal yoga poses. _It's good for circulation and improves flexibility, which should help reduce pain during a natural birth_ , Rachel explains, stretching into a cat-cow pose even though she is not at all pregnant.

Quinn's friends – these days, that means everyone in Glee – are initially a little confused by the whole prospect of Rachel and Quinn being inseparable, but Quinn is less bitchy and Rachel is less bossy and everyone wins when that happens, so nobody really asks about it.

What the other Glee kids don't realize is that when they are alone, Quinn says things like:

"The only time I feel comfortable with my body is when I'm dancing."

Quinn is stretched out across her bed, lying in a mildly uncomfortable position. She looks over her protruding belly at Rachel, cross-legged at the other end of the bed.

Rachel grins, ever-encouraging. "You know, I've always been envious of your looks."

Quinn closes her eyes and sighs. The compliment stings. "Even when I was horrible to you?"

Rachel is quiet for a moment. She shuffles to Quinn's side. "I hated that I was, but yes."

"I don't look like that anymore," Quinn breathes. She squeezes her eyes tighter.

"No, you don't," Rachel agrees, reaching out to rest her palm against Quinn's right hip.

The brush of skin is surprisingly intimate. Alarmed, Quinn's eyes snap open. She scrambles to sit up. "Rachel, what are you doing?"

"Turn to your left side," Rachel instructs, gently nudging her hip.

Quinn stares disbelievingly at Rachel, but she does as she is told. Over her shoulder, she catches Rachel's eye. "What was that all about?"

"Your ankles are swollen," Rachel explains. "This should help relieve a bit of the pressure off your inferior vena cava."

Quinn lets out an incredulous laugh. "How do you even know that?"

"I like to be prepared."

"Don't tell me you've even read up on how to deliver this baby."

Rachel bites back a smile and averts her eyes. Quinn chuckles and rolls her eyes playfully, then rests her cheek against her pillow. Rachel reclines behind Quinn. It's a tight fit, especially with Quinn's stomach taking up so much room, but Quinn presses her back against Rachel's side, and they manage.

Rachel hums a tune that's vaguely familiar, and Quinn, swollen ankles and all, begins to nod off.

"Quinn."

"Hmm?"

"I think," Rachel says with a quiet sincerity, "that you've never been more beautiful."

Quinn shifts against the bed, and, against Rachel's protests, she returns to her back. Shoulder to shoulder, blond hair weaving between dark brown on the pillow, Quinn rolls her hand down the length of her belly.

"You have this _life_ growing inside you," Rachel continues. "Who cares what other people think?"

" _I_ do. I've never known any other way." Quinn turns her head to face Rachel. "Sometimes I admire you. Your courage."

"It's not courage," Rachel responds quickly, and it's all she says. Her hand finds Quinn's hip again. "Left side, please. Your back and ankles will thank me."

Quinn turns to her side again, facing away. "Rachel, could you, uh—" Quinn motions awkwardly at the space in front of her, and her cheeks flush.

Without another word, Rachel rises from the bed and rounds the foot to reach the other side. Quinn squirms backwards to make room, and Rachel slides in beside her. Her hip presses lightly against Quinn's belly.

Quinn falls asleep with her forehead against Rachel's shoulder. Rachel, however, remains awake and observant, and when Quinn shifts in her sleep, bordering precariously close to the edge of the bed, Rachel rolls to her side and holds Quinn's body in place.

Soon, too soon, the sound of the garage door opening awakens her, and Quinn is confused and more than a little embarrassed to find her limbs tangled in Rachel's.

Rachel only smiles sleepily at her. "Looks like Mercedes is home."

Quinn makes a tiny whimpering noise at the back of her throat. "How long have I been asleep?" she mumbles, eyes falling shut again. "I swear the one thing I'm going to enjoy most when this baby finally comes is not falling asleep at all hours of the day."

Rachel shifts on the bed, craning her neck to check Quinn's bedside clock. "Not long," she replies softly. "It's barely noon." There is a drawn out pause, and a hint of amusement flutters into Rachel's voice. "Hey, Quinn. What's this?"

"Hmm?" Quinn forces an eye open, blinking to focus on the blob Rachel's holding in her hand. As sleep clears from Quinn's eyes, she makes out the shape of a small stuffed lamb. Immediately, both eyes snap open. "Where—what are you doing with that?"

"It was under your pillow." Rachel grins, turning the lamb to face her. "It's cute."

Quinn only groans.

Rachel presses on. "Does he have a name?"

"She," Quinn corrects, eyes fluttering shut. "It's a she."

"Oh," Rachel laughs, "well, excuse me."

"Mr. Snuffles," Quinn mumbles, and she feels the tips of her ears going bright red.

It's all worth it when Rachel laughs again. "I thought it was a she?"

"It's a new-age feminist statement," Quinn jokes, still hazy from sleep. "Or something. Go with it."

There's a knock at Quinn's door, and Mercedes's voice drifts through. "Hey, you guys. Kurt got his hands on an empty dance studio. We're gonna round up some Glee kids, blast some music. Gotta make sure we don't get rusty over summer. You interested?"

Rachel smiles coyly; Quinn laughs into the air between their faces. "Be right there, Mercedes!"

Quinn rises from the bed first, untangling herself from Rachel's grip. "Come on, Sleepyhead."

Rachel's smile never fades. She twirls Mr. Snuffles in her hand. The stuffed lamb's limbs fly like helicopter propellers. "We can dance every day, if you'd like," Rachel offers, looking a little like Brittany when she's hanging off Santana's arm, and _ew_. Except not at all ew, because Rachel's kind of adorable when she's being sweet, and Quinn's heart grows a little at the sentiment.

Quinn's hand slides easily into Rachel's, and she pulls her up. She wants to say something sickly saccharine like _you make me feel like I'm dancing_ , but she settles for brushing the lightest of kisses across Rachel's cheek.

\--

Quinn used to never have to worry about anything other than a number on the scale and her ability to safely land a back flip. These days, she worries mostly about vitamins and stretch marks. The Joneses treat her like their own, and that takes a lot of pressure off Quinn. Mrs. Jones even sits Quinn down and explains to her that she has a place in their home until she can reasonably arrange to live on her own. So for the first time in a long time, Quinn has stability in her life.

A movie is playing on Quinn's battered TV, but only Rachel is really paying attention.

"My dads want a second child," Rachel says, chewing ferociously on a piece of popcorn.

Quinn tosses her own piece into the air and catches it with her mouth. "Always imagined it'd take them longer than that to recover from having you," Quinn laughs. She remembers a time when those words would have been laced with malice, but now, they are affectionate. "Popcorn tastes like cardboard without butter, by the way," she adds with a wince as she reaches for another handful.

"Do you know how horribly dairy cows are treated? Forcibly bred to maintain high milk production, and slaughtered in their _infancy_ for beef. If you want that on your conscious, go ahead and butter your popcorn." Rachel pops another piece into her mouth and chews slowly. "Anyway, I think a baby brother or sister would be good for me. It would certainly teach me how to manage my sleeping schedule better, which is an important attribute for a soon-to-be star like me."

Quinn chuckles. Sometimes, Rachel is still Rachel. "Are they going to do it the same way?"

Rachel tucks a piece of hair behind her ear. "Actually," she says, looking up, "what they really want to do is adopt."

Quinn goes completely still mid-chew, and her insides turn to ice. "Is this why you've been trying to be my friend this whole time?"

Rachel appears confused. "No, I—"

Quinn's head rings with anger as the pieces fall into place in her mind. "So you could be a spy for your gay dads? Report back to them about the progress of my pregnancy?"

"Quinn…"

But Quinn is blinded by her rage, and she charges on. "No wonder you knew so much about everything from swollen ankles to breech positions. And—and all that singing to the baby and the yoga?"

Rachel rockets off the bed and spins to glare at Quinn. "Will you shut up for one minute and let me speak?" she grinds through her teeth. "I looked those things up on the internet because I actually _cared_ about you and the baby, and frankly, I resent your implication that I have been somehow manipulating you. I thought we were better friends than that, but apparently not. I did _not_ sell you or your baby out to my dads. They barely know who you are, never mind that you're with child. In fact, the thought hadn't even _crossed_ my mind; do you know why?" She doesn't wait for Quinn's reply. "Do you know how difficult same-sex adoption is in Ohio, especially in this cow town? That my two dads can't even register to be adoptive parents together because their marriage is not recognized here? So Daddy had to register as a single parent. Tell me how that's _fair_ , Quinn. And that was _years_ ago. The adoption agency checks back every six months, but we know we're dead last on their list. Do you know how that _feels_? That two emotionally, physically, and financially capable parents have a much smaller chance at a baby who would be _lucky_ to call them daddy and papa than nearly any heterosexual couple who can make it through the interview without soiling their own pants?"

Quinn's heart drops, and she feels stupid for having brought it up. "Rachel, I had no idea."

"Of course not," Rachel shoots back, temper only growing. "So you assume that I only have eyes for the baby growing inside you. We don't want a new family member badly enough to resort to manipulation, and as much as you must believe otherwise, I don't need friends that desperately, Quinn."

"I'm sorry," Quinn says uselessly, cheeks hot. "I didn't know."

"I don't even _want_ my dads to adopt your baby, because then you'd be part of my family for all the wrong reasons."

"The wrong reasons," Quinn echoes dumbly. "I don't understand…"

"I don't want you to be my sister's mother. I want you to be my _girlfriend_ ," Rachel blurts out, and the surprise in her eyes is mirrored in Quinn's features. But Rachel settles quickly into her words, and her eyes lower. "Do you get it now, Quinn?" she asks quietly before she retreats from the room. Moments later, the front door opens and closes, and the distant sound of a car engine floats through Quinn's window.

Quinn remains motionless on her bed, a bucket of homemade popcorn resting by her hip. Her eyes blur, and she can't even remember what movie they'd been watching – something old, no doubt, since they'd been using the VCR that Rachel had set up when Quinn had first moved in with Mercedes.

Quinn's mouth tastes like cardboard, and it is most definitely not because of Rachel's damn vegan popcorn.

\--

The sky is dark by the time Quinn pulls into the Berry driveway. She walks up to the porch with a brown paper bag clutched in her hands.

One of Rachel's dads answers the front door, and Quinn's palms immediately begin to sweat. She quickly realizes that she's never actually _met_ Rachel's dads, only seen them in photos and heard about them from Rachel's stories. Quinn is suddenly equal parts intrigued by the family dynamic and intimidated by the prospect of Rachel's dads _knowing_ things.

Not that they're doing anything that should concern her dads, Quinn insists to herself.

"Is, uh, is Rachel home?"

Rachel's dad stands his ground, stoic in the doorway. "Yes, but I don't think she wants to be disturbed."

Quinn's heart does a little flip, and she has to re-center her weight across her ankles. "Please, I really need to speak to her."

"I'm sorry. You'll have to catch her at another time."

"Mr. Berry—"

"Quinn," the man says, and the sound of her name surprises her. "My daughter is upset and doesn't want any visitors. I don't know whether you were involved, or how, but I can tell you're equally upset." At this, he pulls out a pack of tissues from his breast pocket and offers one to Quinn. Only then does she realize she's been crying the whole time, and a flush travels up her neck to her cheeks. She takes a tissue from him and wipes self-consciously at her eyes. After a short pause, Rachel's dad continues, "Come back tomorrow, okay?"

"Okay." Quinn holds out the paper bag. She'd clutched the opening so hard that it's scrunched up and almost torn. "Could you just give her this?"

Rachel's dad takes the bag from her. "Sure, Quinn. Nice meeting you."

Quinn stumbles back to her car and sits in the Berry driveway for another ten minutes to try to recollect herself. The best thing that's ever happened to her, and she has to go and fuck it up with her dumbass assumptions.

She'd slipped momentarily back to an old behavior, seeing the worst in people, even when Rachel has done nothing to deserve it.

Quinn drives home – to Mercedes's, anyway, but she calls it home now – and by the time she crawls into bed, she's too exhausted to even think. Quinn falls asleep without changing, in a position that Rachel would lecture her about if she were around.

Quinn doesn't make it through the night. At a quarter to three, she stumbles to the bathroom to brush her teeth and wash her face. Her reflection in the mirror is unkind; her eyes are red and puffy, and her hair sticks up awkwardly from her head.

Back in her room, Quinn logs onto her Myspace for the first time in months and goes through every single comment she's ever left on any of Rachel's videos or photos. She doesn't even remember most of them, but the words are sharp and acrid and intended to hurt. She cringes at them, bristling at the thought that Rachel's had to read them all. With a heavy heart, she deletes them one at a time, murmuring a quiet apology at her computer screen for each one.

It's nearly dawn when Quinn finally removes the last comment. Before she logs off, Quinn watches Rachel belt out 'For Good' from Wicked, and when Quinn begins to cry, she knows it's not from the baby hormones.

Her fingertips slide to the keyboard, and she taps out a quick comment, the letters blurring behind the tears she cannot blink away.

It says simply: ' _Because I knew you._ '

\--

Quinn doesn't get another chance to convince Mr. Berry to let her in to see Rachel, because the very next morning at breakfast, a pool of liquid gathers around Quinn's seat, and it feels like she cannot stop peeing on herself.

"Mercedes…" she whispers, looking down in shock.

Mercedes gets it. "Oh my God. Oh my _God_ ," she says from across the table, simultaneously trying to get a better look and backing away in fear.

Thankfully, Mercedes's mom rushes into the kitchen and grabs Quinn, motioning for Mercedes to bring the bag she'd prepared for her hospital stay. All three rush outside. Mercedes buckles Quinn into the backseat of her mom's car and slides in after her. Mrs. Jones – though Quinn's never seen her drive above forty – races down the street like she's escaping a zombie infestation. Quinn squeezes Mercedes's hand in her own, clutching her stomach in pain.

"Call Puck," Quinn says through gritted teeth, because she'd promised, and as much as she does not want to raise a family with Puck, she's learned to keep her word, and no matter what, they are connected through this experience.

Mercedes pulls out her phone with her free hand and punches a few buttons.

"He's coming," Mercedes confirms to Quinn a few minutes later. "Anyone else I should call? Your parents? Rachel?"

"No," is all Quinn says, and Mercedes, though clearly surprised by Quinn's response, doesn't push it.

Ten minutes later, Quinn is being wheeled into a delivery room. Mercedes helps her change into a hospital gown, and two nurses drop by to ask questions and take a few measurements. Her contractions aren't coming frequently enough yet, and she isn't sufficiently dilated, so Quinn is made as comfortable as possible, and it becomes a waiting game.

Puck appears in her doorway fifteen minutes after that, hands in his pockets and looking a little bewildered. He approaches with caution, his steps slow and measured.

Quinn chuckles. "I'm not going to spray you with baby juice, Puck."

Puck grins and picks up his pace. "Hey," he says when he reaches the side of Quinn's bed.

"Hi," she replies.

"You two need a minute?" Mercedes asks from the other side of the bed.

"No!" Simultaneously.

Everyone laughs – Mercedes, with an eye roll; Quinn, anxiously; Puck, nervously.

And all Quinn can think about is how much she misses Rachel.

\--

The baby comes at 5:47 pm, and the first ear-shattering scream is the most beautiful sound Quinn has ever heard.

Quinn falls back against her bed, exhausted. She loosens her grip on Puck and Mercedes's hands, murmuring a quiet _thank you_. A minute later, a squirming baby girl is placed gently in Quinn's arms, and she immediately falls in love with this tiny human that she has helped create and has carried for nine months. It's miraculous, even under difficult circumstances, and when Puck brushes his fingertips across the baby's cheek, there's an instant when Quinn remembers what it'd been like, how she'd felt.

But if there's one thing that she's learned from her parents, it's to weigh both sides before entering into lifelong commitments.

"Puck," she says softly, as though breaking bad news to him, "I'm not keeping her."

Puck tilts his head forward with a small, wistful smile. "I know," he says, and he does. "Until she meets her new parents, I'm going to call her Beth."

Quinn nods. "Okay."

\--

After Quinn is cleaned up and moved to another room with Beth, Brittany and Santana are the first visitors.

They walk in, pinkies intertwined. Brittany skips to Quinn's bedside, tugging Santana along.

"Hey, Quinn," Brittany greets with a bright smile.

"Hi, Brittany," Quinn responds quietly, so as not to wake the baby sleeping in her arms. "Santana."

Santana acknowledges Quinn with a nod.

"Can I hold her?" Brittany asks eagerly.

"Okay," Quinn replies, carefully holding out the baby. "Just be careful. Hold her over the bed just in case."

Brittany scoops her arms under the baby and holds her against her chest. Beth doesn't fuss. "Are you sure you don't wanna keep her?" she coos.

"I'm sixteen, Britt," Quinn explains.

"We could help," Brittany offers, looking at Santana from the corner of her eye.

Quinn smiles softly. "You're a good friend, Brittany."

Brittany beams. Santana leans over Brittany, reaching to play with Beth's tiny fist.

"Where's Rachel?" Santana asks after a moment.

Quinn closes her eyes. "I don't know."

Fingers slip between stands of Quinn's hair. Brittany's. "What happened, Quinn?"

When Quinn opens her eyes again, Santana is holding Beth – looking a little awkward doing it, but it's not like Quinn really knows any better. Brittany is watching her with worried blue eyes.

"I don't know, Britt."

Brittany doesn't stop stroking Quinn's hair. "Do you want me to beat her up?" she offers. "'Cause I could take her. She's really short."

Quinn laughs in spite of herself. "No, Brittany. Thank you though."

Santana rocks Beth slowly in her arms. "She'll show," she says, and it sounds more like a warning than anything else, but from Santana, it's as close to faith as it gets.

\--

Finn is next, shoulders hunched and stature unsure.

"Hey, Quinn." His eyes widen at the sight of Beth, and he stops two steps in, ready to bolt. "I, uh, I just wanted to say congratulations and stuff."

"Finn, wait." Quinn rises from the bed, Beth clutched to her chest. "I'm sorry. About everything."

Finn's hands dig into his pockets. "I know. Me too."

"We weren't perfect, but we were doing okay until I went and messed it up, and I—" Quinn takes a deep breath. "I am so sorry I led you on, Finn."

"It's cool, Quinn. I mean, it's not really cool what you did, but… we're cool." Finn offers a crooked smile and Quinn can't help but admire his easy-going nature.

Ultimately, Finn Hudson is still the high school boy who sang lullabies to baby Beth's sonogram, so Quinn isn't entirely surprised when Finn scratches the back of his head and asks if he can hold her.

\--

The fact that everyone from Glee pays her and Beth a visit kind of makes Quinn want to cry a little bit.

Everyone, that is, except Rachel, but Quinn tries not to think about that.

Mercedes had told Kurt, who'd told Finn, who'd been tossing around a football with Mike and Matt at the time. Puck had "accidentally" told Santana in a panicked frenzy on his drive to the hospital, and Brittany pretty much comes with that package. Quinn isn't quite sure how Tina and Artie had found out, but sure enough, even they make an appearance.

Quinn does not ask whether anyone's told Rachel.

There are no complications, but Quinn's doctor wants to keep her and the baby overnight just in case, especially given that it's her first birth. Mrs. Jones agrees that it's a good idea, so even though Quinn wants nothing more than to go home and sleep in her own bed, she goes with it.

By the time the last of her visitors – Mr. Schuester – leaves, the clock hits eight and visiting hours are over. Not that Quinn had _expected_ Rachel to make an appearance, but at the back of her mind, she'd hoped, and now she only has a lonely night to look forward to.

Quinn leaves the baby in the nursery overnight, to some extent because she knows the nurses would do a better job watching her in case something goes wrong, but mostly because she feels herself growing attached to baby Beth and needs some time to figure out what exactly she's going to do.

Puck drops by one last time after hours to ask if she wants him to stay the night with her. Quinn politely declines.

Quinn is nearly asleep when she hears a familiar voice outside her room: _I'll have you know that one of my dads leads the team down in oncology, and he would_ not _be pleased if he heard about the ridiculous bureaucracy here in the neonatal ward._

Quinn stumbles out of bed and runs barefoot to the door, feeling lightheaded from more than just the exhausting day. She tugs the door open and almost walks into one of the night shift nurses, who has her hands on Rachel's flailing arms in an attempt to stop her.

Immediately, Rachel freezes. "Quinn," she says in a tiny voice.

Quinn squeezes into the hallway. "Rachel."

"Miss," the nurse says calmly, loosening her grip around Rachel, "only the father of the baby or the partner of the mother is allowed to stay after visiting hours."

Rachel's fists ball up at her sides. "You ask Noah Puckerman who has spent more time with Quinn and this baby in the third trimester, which studies have shown is where the most significant fetal development occurs, and let me tell you—"

"She's my partner," Quinn pipes up.

Both Rachel and the nurse spin to face Quinn with identical confused expressions.

Quinn wraps her arms around herself protectively. "Rachel is my partner."

"I'm not talking about like a—a biology lab partner," the nurse stammers.

Quinn shrugs her shoulders. "Neither am I."

The nurse recovers quickly, and though she does not appear at all convinced that Quinn is sincere in her declaration, she nods out of something resembling pity. "No funny business. Stay in your room." She turns to Rachel. "Morning rounds start at seven. You need to be gone by then, do you understand?"

Rachel nods eagerly, and the nurse ushers them into Quinn's room and closes the door. In the sudden darkness, Quinn hears Rachel sliding her bag off her shoulder with slow and careful movements. Rachel's bag clamors to the floor, and Quinn nearly jumps.

"Sorry," Rachel mumbles.

Quinn can barely see two inches in front of her face, but she reaches blindly for Rachel. She catches an arm and pulls her closer.

"You should've told me," Rachel says with a measured voice. "I—I wanted to be here, and not because…"

"I know," Quinn interrupts quietly. "I know you did. I wanted you here, and Mercedes even asked if she should call you on the way over, and I'm sorry." She reaches out again, and her fingertips brush against Rachel's cheek. "To be fair, you probably would have wreaked havoc in the delivery room."

Rachel chuckles, breathing deeply. "Maybe."

Quinn's fingers follow Rachel's jaw down to her chin. "I missed you," Quinn exhales. "Is that crazy?"

"Not crazy." Rachel pulls Quinn's hand from her face and threads her fingers through hers. "I missed you too, Quinn."

Quinn's eyes have adjusted to the darkness, and she makes out one side of Rachel's face, enough to lean down and touch her lips to hers, careful and tentative and a little sweet. Rachel tilts her head up to meet Quinn, her hand threading through hair and finding the back of Quinn's neck. A tiny sigh escapes the back of Quinn's throat, and she opens her mouth to breathe every inch of Rachel in. Even Rachel's quiet moans sound like singing, and Quinn almost laughs at the absurdity of it all.

Rachel pulls away first, and she sighs something like relief. Quinn rests her forehead against Rachel's, breathing heavily into the slice of air between their faces.

Wordlessly, Quinn pulls Rachel to the bed and urges her to slide in. Rachel kicks off her shoes and complies. Quinn climbs in after her, and it feels just like all those times in Quinn's room. She never lets go of Rachel's hand.

"I had the baby," Quinn says a minute later, cutting through the silence.

Beside her, Rachel laughs. "I kind of figured that out. Where is she?"

"In the nursery." A faint smile plays on Quinn's lips. "She's gorgeous, Rachel."

"Just like her mom," Rachel murmurs affectionately. And after a moment, reminiscent of her words from so many days ago, "Figured out what you're going to do yet?"

Quinn leans her head on Rachel's shoulder and teasingly echoes the same response. "Do you have no sense of discretion?"

Rachel laughs, a quiet, sincere sound that Quinn had missed more than anything else.

"I want your dads to adopt her," Quinn continues, turning her head to gauge Rachel's reaction, "if you're okay with that and your dads want to."

Rachel is silent for a moment. "I'll have to talk to them."

"And you?" Quinn asks. When Rachel says nothing, Quinn reaches up with her free hand and palms Rachel's cheek. "Hey, I won't—"

"I want whatever's best for you and the baby," Rachel replies, leaning in to Quinn's touch.

"Rachel." Quinn turns to her side, pushing herself up to get a better look at Rachel's face. "I'm not doing this if you don't want me to."

Rachel's eyes are closed, and Quinn leans down to dust a kiss to the corner of her lips. Rachel turns into the kiss, a quiet urgency in her breath as Quinn tastes her, tongue brushing tentatively against tongue, and Rachel's hand glides to Quinn's hip, pulling her closer.

Quinn's leg slides over Rachel's, straddling, and Quinn groans into Rachel's mouth at the contact. Rachel's hand rolls up the length of Quinn's spine as their bodies press together. Quinn detaches herself from Rachel's lips to leave a trail of kisses along her jaw and down her neck. She buries her face near Rachel's shoulder and tries to catch her breath.

"What are we doing?" Quinn murmurs against Rachel's collarbone.

Rachel's body immediately tenses. "I—Should we stop?"

"No. No, I just—" Quinn lifts her head to look at Rachel. She chooses her words carefully, feeling a little embarrassed. "I guess… I never thought I could feel this way with a girl."

Rachel's smile is small and tender. "I know who I am, Quinn, and I know who I do or do not have the capacity to love." She reaches up and tucks a piece of Quinn's hair behind her ear. "You've grown up with very conservative parents, in a very conservative town, and I understand that. I would never ask you to be someone you aren't; all I want in return is the same honesty from you."

Quinn lowers her lips to Rachel's again, and Rachel generously offers everything she has without hesitation. Quinn is slow in her movements, experimental, and Rachel matches her touch for touch, sound for sound. Quinn instinctively squeezes her thighs together around Rachel's leg, and Quinn startles at the sensation. She pulls away, rolling off Rachel, breathing thickly. She stares up at the ceiling.

"I think," Quinn says, working out the words in her head, "that I want this thing—" She motions her hand between them in the dark. "—with you."

Quinn can almost _hear_ Rachel beaming beside her. Rachel's hand slips back into Quinn's, but she doesn't say anything for so long that Quinn turns her head to check whether Rachel's fallen asleep.

She hasn't. "I'd like you to be there when I speak to my dads about the adoption," she says, "if you're comfortable with that. I want you to meet them."

Quinn nods against the pillow. "I'd like that." She pauses thoughtfully. "I met one of your dads, you know. He knew my name."

Rachel breathes evenly. "Yes, he told me."

"How did he know my name?" Quinn presses, giving Rachel's hand a squeeze.

Rachel tilts her head to look at Quinn. "I spent a lot of time with you in the past month, Quinn. There was no reason for me to lie to them about where I was going."

"No, but—he recognized me." Quinn stretches to bury her face in Rachel's neck, breathing in the scent of her hair. "They know, don't they? That I made your days at school a living hell?"

"I didn't tell on you or anything," Rachel interjects immediately. She breathes out a sigh. "But Quinn, they're my parents." Rachel's shoulders rise in a half-shrug. "Parents have a way of figuring things out. It's not any different just because they're both men."

Quinn presses a soft, apologetic kiss to Rachel's throat. "Is that why I've never met them?"

Rachel turns her head to return the kiss to Quinn's temple. "They always told me, be careful with your heart. I suppose I wanted to make sure we were on the same page first." She pulls Quinn's hand up to her chest and plays absentmindedly with her fingers. "I wasn't hiding you, Quinn. I was going to introduce you to them eventually. Maybe after you had your baby. It wasn't exactly like you left Mercedes's very much."

"Yeah," Quinn murmurs, feeling her body tensing at the thought of meeting the parents of the girl she'd tormented since the first day of sixth grade.

"Quinn." Rachel brushes her lips reassuringly across Quinn's knuckles. "Don't be nervous. They're going to love you."

The two fall to lighter topics after that – good music and bad hospital food – and sometime before midnight, Rachel pulls the sheets over both of their bodies and curls up at Quinn's side. Quinn, exhausted, falls into a dreamless slumber.

\--

At half past six the next morning, something vibrates insistently against Quinn's hip, and Quinn groans in her sleep, reaching out to swat at the noise. She hits something soft and warm. Something that hisses in pain.

Quinn half-opens an eye, and it takes her a moment to figure out where she is and why she doesn't need to pee like her crotch is in fire.

Beside her, Rachel is rubbing her upper thigh with one hand while trying to flip open her buzzing pink, rhinestone-encrusted phone with the other. Quinn reaches out and grabs Rachel's phone from her, claws it open, and hands it back. Rachel punches a key and the buzzing immediately stops.

"Sorry," Rachel whispers. "Phone alarm."

Quinn groans again. "Do you wake up this early every morning?"

"Yes," Rachel replies seriously, sitting up and pulling the sheets with her, "but I only set this one because I have to sneak out before seven."

Quinn tugs the sheets back and over her head. A moment later, Rachel's weight presses down along the length of her body, and Quinn grunts as she tries halfheartedly to struggle free.

Rachel digs Quinn out from under the sheets. "Good morning!" she greets cheerfully, pressing a kiss to Quinn's forehead. "Rise and shine!"

Quinn laughs when Rachel blocks her attempt to curl back underneath. "Rachel, I am going to punch you in the face."

Rachel grins. "I think I could take you, especially when you're still half asleep and I'm already extremely coherent due to years of waking up early to guarantee that I have time to consume a balanced breakfast."

"Okay, okay," Quinn relents, pushing herself up. "I'm up."

Rachel rolls off Quinn to give her room to get up, and Quinn untangles herself from the sheets and rises to stand on unbalanced feet.

She turns to Rachel. "Do you want to meet baby Beth before you go?"

Rachel's eyes light up. "She has a name?"

Quinn stretches, stifling a yawn. "Well, that's what Puck's calling her for now. You know, because of the song."

Rachel nods eagerly. "Yes, I'd love to meet her."

Quinn makes a quick trip to the bathroom to brush her teeth, and a moment later, Rachel joins her, an unzipped travel kit in her hands. She pulls out a bright pink toothbrush and settles in beside Quinn. It should be strange or uncomfortable or awkward, except it's none of those things.

Quinn even humors Rachel by brushing the whole two minutes.

\--

Rachel and Quinn make it down the hall to the nursery unscathed, and Rachel peers through the window, looking from one baby to the next.

"I know they say you can tell," Rachel says, face scrunching up in thought, "but I honestly have no idea which one is yours."

Quinn points to a sleeping baby directly in front of where Rachel is standing. "There she is."

Rachel presses her face up to the glass. "Oh, Quinn, she's adorable!"

Suddenly, a figure hovers behind them, and both Rachel and Quinn spin to face the nurse they'd met the previous night. Instead of looking irritated, her expression is one of amusement.

"I thought I told you—"

"It's not seven yet," Rachel explains quickly.

"We just wanted to see how Beth is doing," Quinn adds.

The nurse looks past them into the nursery. "Beth is doing fine. She's sleeping and feeding well. Her doctor should make a round this morning and if everything clears, you can expect to take her home no later than this afternoon."

"Actually," Quinn says quietly, "I'm putting her up for adoption."

"Oh." The nurse appears neither surprised nor unsurprised. "Have you been in touch with an agency?"

Quinn's stomach drops. "No…"

"We were hoping for a private domestic adoption," Rachel fills in.

"You'll still need to contact an agency," the nurse replies. "They'll help you get in touch with an adoptive family, and you can sign consent forms 72 hours after birth."

Quinn rocks anxiously on the balls of her feet. "So I have to keep her for 72 hours?"

The nurse nods. "You can also anonymously surrender her to the hospital, in which case we take care of the adoption process, but you'd have no say in potential parents."

"No," Quinn says, shaking her head. "I don't want to do that."

The nurse softens. "Then, yes, sweetheart, you'll have to keep her for 72 hours. Speak to an adoption agency though. If they can find you parents fast enough, you might be able to hand her over immediately, even before all the paperwork goes through."

Quinn turns away to hide the tears straining against her eyelids, and Rachel's hand finds her arm and squeezes.

"Thank you," Rachel says politely to the nurse.

Quinn brushes away a few tears and looks back at Beth. The baby is squirming uncomfortably, and an unexpected sense of maternal instinct kicks in. "When was she last fed?"

The nurse checks the watch pinned to the front of her scrubs. "A little over two hours ago, so she'll need another bottle soon. Would you like to feed her?"

Quinn nods, never taking her eyes off Beth. "Yes, can we take her back to my room?"

The nurse's smile is warm and a little sympathetic. "Sure, honey."

\--

Quinn lets Rachel feed Beth, and though Rachel initially appears nervous, she settles comfortably into the role. When Beth finishes her bottle, Rachel rocks her to sleep with a smile and a soft song.

Quinn begins pacing the room. "I don't have any place for her to stay. I don't have a crib, or a car seat, or diapers." Her eyes widen, and she pivots toward where Rachel is seated. "Rachel, I don't have _diapers_."

"Quinn, calm down," Rachel replies evenly, her eyes on Beth. "Look, if it comes down to it, we'll dig around in my basement and find some of my baby things. My dads don't throw away anything that I've touched." She stands up and adjusts Beth's pink cap. "I should probably go before I get in trouble."

Quinn takes the sleeping baby from Rachel's arms. Rachel rises on her toes to slip a kiss to Quinn's lips, and another to Beth's cheek. Quinn realizes with a heavy heart that it's the first kiss Beth has ever received.

Rachel touches Beth's cheek affectionately. "Are Mercedes and her mom taking you home?"

"They said they'd come by around nine," Quinn replies.

Rachel smiles at Quinn and leans in for another kiss, this one lingering. "If things aren't too crazy tonight, I'll corral my dads and we can pitch the adoption to them."

Quinn nods in agreement.

Rachel moves to the door to pick her bag up off the floor and swing it over her shoulder. Her hand is already on the door handle when she turns back to Quinn. "Hey," she says softly, "I never even had a chance to ask you how you were feeling."

"Overwhelmed," Quinn replies with a small smile.

Rachel walks back to Quinn, and her hands reach up to cup Quinn's cheeks. "We'll figure this out," she insists. "Oh, and—" Rachel reaches into her bag and pulls out a familiar stuffed lamb. "This is the greatest peace offering I have ever received, and that includes a signed Spice Girls CD that Ashley Clark's mother made her give me in first grade after she stuck gum in my hair." She places it lightly on Beth's sleeping body. "But I am a little appalled that you transported Mr. Snuffles in an ugly paper bag. He deserves better than that."

"She," Quinn corrects lightheartedly.

Rachel laughs quietly. "Oh, right." She presses a kiss to Quinn's lips, momentarily distracted when Quinn hums low against her lips. Rachel pulls away quickly, because Beth is still sleeping soundly in Quinn's arms. "See you later, Quinn. Bye, Beth. Play nice with Mr. Snuffles."

Rachel turns to leave, and with one last wink, she slips out the door.

Quinn returns Beth to the nursery and waits in her room for Mercedes.

\--

"Will you quit being so nervous?" Rachel asks, trying to navigate the road while sneaking peeks at her rearview mirror.

From the backseat, Quinn flusters, her knuckles white from clutching the side of Beth's car seat. "I can't help it!"

"You're stressing Beth out," Rachel reprimands. "Where did you even get the car seat?"

"Mercedes's cousin recently grew out of it." Quinn fiddles with Beth's onesie. "Rachel, I can't do this."

"Do you want me to turn back?"

"Yes! No. I don't know, Rachel."

Rachel bites her lip. "Quinn."

"No. No, don't turn back." Quinn takes a deep breath in an attempt to calm herself down. "But what if they hate me?"

Rachel smiles. "Relax. They won't."

At the next stoplight, Rachel pulls the car to the side of the road and shifts to park. She unbuckles her seatbelt and turns around, looking over her seat at Quinn.

"Quinn," Rachel begins gently, "I've already explained the situation to my dads. They're excited to meet you and the baby, and quite honestly, they're probably more nervous than you are." She smiles and reaches for Quinn's hand. "So stop worrying. If at any time, you want to leave, we'll go, and if you decide my household is not in Beth's best interests, that would be up to you and we wouldn't pressure you."

Quinn leans forward, but her seatbelt strains against her shoulder, and she falls back into her seat. To her surprise, Rachel climbs over the console and squeezes onto Quinn's lap.

"Hi," Rachel murmurs, leaning down to press her lips briefly to Quinn's. Rachel's hand slides to Quinn's thigh.

Quinn buries her face against Rachel's neck and leaves a trail of kisses along her throat. Quinn fists the front of Rachel's sweater, and Rachel responds by gripping at Quinn's shoulder.

After a moment, Quinn pulls away and presses her forehead against Rachel's cheek. "Wait, not in front of the baby."

Rachel smiles slyly. "I'm going to get back to driving. Still nervous?"

Quinn hides her own smile as Rachel climbs back into the driver's seat. Quinn touches her own lips briefly. "Yeah, but… not for the same reasons as before."

\--

Rachel's dads are sitting next to each other in the living room when Rachel and Quinn enter through the front door. Quinn has Beth's car seat cradled in her arms, and a makeshift diaper bag over her shoulder. Rachel closes the door quietly behind them.

Immediately, Rachel's dads both jump out of their seats.

Rachel steps in front of Quinn. "Daddy, Papa. This is Quinn."

Quinn's grip tightens around Beth's car seat. "It's nice to meet you," she says timidly.

One of Rachel's dads – the dark-skinned one Rachel calls Daddy – steps forward tensely and offers a warm smile. "I believe we've already met. Please, call me Terry."

"Terry Berry?" Quinn blurts out incredulously before she can stop herself. Immediately, she recoils, cheeks burning as she launches into an embarrassed apology. "I—I'm so sorry; I didn't mean to be rude. I think that's a great name, Sir."

Tension drains from Terry's face, and he laughs effortlessly. "Don't worry, Quinn. Not the first time I've heard that one and won't be the last. Ohio refuses to acknowledge our marriage, you see, so we decided to protest by changing our last names to match. And this wonderful man—" Terry points to Rachel's other dad. "—did not want to be a Jew named Michael Jackson."

Rachel's other dad – Michael not-Jackson – walks to Terry's side and smiles, reaching to adjust his glasses. "That'd be me. I'm excited to finally meet you, Quinn."

The room falls silent after greetings, and Rachel looks uncertainly from a still-horrified Quinn to her dads and back.

"Um, Daddy, Papa, would you like to meet baby Beth?"

"Yes, yes, of course," Terry replies, sounding relieved.

Rachel turns to Quinn with an encouraging smile. "Quinn?"

Silently, Quinn steps forward and holds out the car seat. Beth is sound asleep inside.

Michael reaches for Terry's arm. "Oh, she's beautiful," Michael murmurs in awe.

Terry motions for everyone to sit. Quinn and Rachel squeeze into a roomy armchair, baby Beth's car seat resting across their laps, while Michael and Terry return to their seats on the sofa.

"I'm sorry this is a little more awkward than most meet-the-parents," Terry says lightly, "and we'd really like to get to know you better, Quinn, but I feel like we won't get anywhere without addressing the elephant, so we're just going to jump straight to it: we'd really like to adopt Beth."

Quinn reaches instinctively for Rachel's hand. "I'd really like that too," Quinn replies.

"I don't mean to be forthright," Terry says, "but, well—" He trails off and looks to Michael.

"We were wondering," Michael continues, "if you could give us an estimate on how likely you're going to go through with this."

Terry attempts to elaborate. "We just—we're not the state's first choice for adoptive parents, almost entirely because of our homosexuality, so it's going to be a long and exhausting process for all of us. We don't want to get our hopes up if this is option B for you. Because this is absolutely option A for us."

Michael nods seriously. "Yeah, we're in it for the long haul."

"I'm committed to this too," Quinn assures them.

Terry cracks his knuckles nervously. "If you have any questions…"

Quinn thinks about this for a moment. "Just one: why do you want this baby?"

Terry smiles, as though it's an obvious answer. "Because we look at Rachel, and we cannot think of a greater joy than raising another daughter just like her."

Beside him, Michael speaks up. "This isn't a spur-of-the-moment decision for us. We've wanted this for a long time, but we'd pretty much given up on non-biological adoption because of how difficult it is for us legally. And it may still be difficult, even with your consent and preference, to finalize an adoption into our family." Michael smiles sadly. "We want to be as honest as possible, and make sure you understand that we're likely entering into a legal mess here, and it may take months to sort out. But we want to assure you we're mentally prepared to see this through. We'll cover all the financial costs, and we'll love this baby like we love Rachel. We'll even cut back our work hours to make time for her. If you're in it, we're in it."

"I am," Quinn replies, meaning it.

"I have a question," Rachel pipes up. "Well, Quinn and I—we're a couple now, and it's inevitable that she'll be around as Beth grows up. How do we explain who Quinn is to her?"

Michael looks to Quinn. "Quinn, we'd like to hear your thoughts on that as well."

"It's important to us that we work out an arrangement that works for you," Terry adds.

Quinn looks down at Beth and reaches into her car seat to adjust her clothing needlessly. "I—I want to be a part of her life, but I don't think I could handle her knowing I'm her biological mother until she's old enough to understand it." She looks up at Rachel. "But I don't want to be Beth's Shel—"

"Shelter!" Rachel interrupts loudly, locking Quinn's hand into a vice grip. "Quinn doesn't want to be the reason Beth is sheltered from the truth, th—though she understands why it would be in Beth's best interests to remain blissfully unaware until she's prepared to know."

The realization that Rachel hasn't told her dads about meeting Shelby dawns on Quinn, and she shuts up immediately.

Michael and Terry give each other looks, but they don't seem to catch Quinn's slip-up. Or if they do, they mercifully let it go.

"Are we to understand," Michael asks, "that you'd prefer not to tell the baby that you are her biological mother until she is of age?"

"Yes," Quinn confirms, "that is correct."

Terry clasps his hands together. "Great. We'd like this to be as open as you want, Quinn, but I agree that this is preferable."

"I just want to know one thing," Michael says gently, taking anxious looks at Terry. "For lack of better phrasing: why us? Don't get me wrong; we are honored and ecstatic that you've chosen to pursue this with us, but there are so many people out there who are waiting for and deserving of a healthy baby."

"I can't give Beth everything she deserves," Quinn replies thoughtfully, "but I'd still like to be a part of her life and watch her grow up. Everyone else, I don't know who they are."

"Well, to play the devil's advocate," Terry points out, "you don't know us very well either."

"No," Quinn agrees, "but I know Rachel. I want to make sure Beth grows up with values and a strong sense of self." Quinn looks at Rachel and squeezes her hand. "And I have all the evidence right here that you can raise a daughter with both."

Rachel smiles brightly at the compliment and nudges her temple affectionately against Quinn's shoulder.

"So," Quinn says, "how exactly does this… work?"

"We'll call the agency as soon as we can," Terry replies, "and ask them how to proceed, what our best option is. Do you want to keep her until all the paperwork is in place?" Terry suddenly appears anxious. "Because that could take a little while."

Quinn shakes her head. "No, no. You can take her as soon as you're ready."

"We can set up the guest room," Michael immediately suggests. "Rachel's old bassinet is still down in the basement. We can clean it up, and—and I know this is really soon, but she'd be ready to spend the night tonight."

"Okay, I—okay," Quinn stammers, feeling unprepared. "I have some diapers here, and uh, formula."

"Could we—could we hold her?" Terry asks, nervously wringing his hands.

"Yes, of course," Quinn replies, rising as well. She places the car seat carefully on the coffee table and unbuckles Beth, pulling her up into her arms. "You can change her name, if you want. Beth is just what we're calling her."

Quinn holds out the still-sleeping baby, and Terry scoops her gently into his arms. Michael hovers over Beth and smiles down at her. "Beth is perfect," he awes.

Quinn manages not to cry until she sees the tears streaming down Rachel's cheeks.

"This means everything to them," Rachel tells Quinn through her tears.

\--

After dropping by Mercedes to pick up toiletries and a change of clothes, and to let the Joneses know, Quinn spends the night at Rachel's. Partly to keep an eye on Beth, but mostly because she feels her best when she's around Rachel, and as much as she knows she's doing the right thing, there's an empty feeling that settles in.

Rachel's bed is larger than Quinn's, and they fit comfortably under her covers.

"Rachel."

"What?"

"My boobs are killing me."

Rachel looks at Quinn's chest out of the corner of her eye.

Quinn groans. "Quit staring at them. It's because I'm not breastfeeding Beth."

"Sorry." Rachel pushes herself up. "Anything I can do?"

Quinn shakes her head. "It's just kind of uncomfortable."

Rachel nudges closer to Quinn and leans down to press a comforting kiss to Quinn's lips. "Does that help?" she murmurs. Without waiting for a response, Rachel does it again, and again, her fingers slipping to the side of Quinn's neck.

"Yeah," Quinn breathes. "Keep doing that."

Rachel eagerly complies, artfully avoiding any part of Quinn that could still be tender. In short, Rachel touches the skin along Quinn's arms, and kisses no lower than her collarbones, which is actually okay, because Quinn has a really sensitive neck, and it doesn't take Rachel long to figure that out.

Quinn starts breathing a little heavily, and when Rachel hits a particularly responsive spot at the base of Quinn's collar, Quinn nudges Rachel to her back and climbs over her.

It's not that Quinn is aggressive. That one time with Puck, she let him do whatever, partly because of those wine coolers, but mostly because Puck was experienced and knew how to make her feel good. Quinn hadn't really cared how it was for Puck.

But with Rachel, it's different, and Quinn hungers to return the favor.

It doesn't take Quinn long to rid Rachel of her shirt. Rachel arches up to Quinn's willing lips, and Quinn forgets all about her own discomfort when she twirls her tongue quickly around one of Rachel's nipples and Rachel gasps loudly.

Baby Beth chooses that exact moment to let out a blood-curdling cry. The footsteps and noises that follow prove that the walls of the Berry home are not at all soundproof. At least not for what Quinn has in mind, and the whole thing kind of kills the mood anyway.

Quinn groans and slides half off Rachel, deflated. Rachel pats the side of Quinn's head tenderly, as though saying, _worth a try_. Quinn pulls the covers over Rachel's body and curls up next to her. Quinn fiddles with the waist of Rachel's pajama pants for a few moments before looking up at her.

"I know we had to change the topic before," Quinn says quietly, "but do you think I'm doing the right thing by denying Beth a mom?"

"I grew up without one," Rachel points out.

"Not instead of one of your dads." Quinn exhales slowly. "Just—I don't know. I don't want to be like Ms. Corcoran."

"You're not going to be like Shelby," Rachel insists, turning her body to face Quinn. "Beth is going to grow up with you in her life, and you're going to love her and buy her cool toys, and take her side when she fights with her older sister." Rachel smiles. "And when she's eighteen, or whenever she's ready, we'll tell her, and maybe she'll be upset at first, but she'll get over it, Quinn. Do you know why?"

"Why?"

"Because you are not Shelby," Rachel maintains. "You will have a _history_ with Beth. Memories that you share. That _only_ the two of you share. She'll see past the one secret you've kept from her and realize that your decision was made out of love, and that you gave her up so she'd have a better life. That was not Shelby's motivation, and there's the difference."

Quinn considers this for a moment. "I hope you're right."

"Not to brag," Rachel replies, "but I am very rarely wrong."

Quinn laughs, adjusting herself to find a comfortable sleeping position.

"Do you want to live here?" Rachel asks suddenly. "My bed is certainly large enough, and—"

"No, Rachel," Quinn replies gently.

Rachel tenses. "Oh."

Quinn hesitates. "I can't live under the same roof as Beth. That just complicates things."

"Are you saying you would've moved in if my dads weren't adopting Beth?" Rachel asks, her words defensive.

"It's not like that," Quinn insists quietly.

"Then—"

"Living with the Joneses is working for me, Rachel." Quinn reaches for Rachel's cheek, but she pulls away just enough to avoid Quinn's touch. It stings, but Quinn pushes on. "I love you, but this is so new for me, and—" Quinn trails off. "You're hurt."

"No, I—" Rachel is quiet for a moment. "You love me?"

"Yeah, I do." Quinn looks unsure for a moment. "I mean, I think that's what we're doing, right?"

"I love you, too," Rachel offers, punctuating her words for a soft kiss. "And you're right. But maybe you could spend the night once a week or something?"

"I'd like that," Quinn agrees. "Hey, Rachel?"

"Yes?"

Quinn hides her smile. "My boobs still hurt."

\--

The law is a complicated thing, even more so when there is blatant discrimination against homosexuality in general. But the Berrys are meticulous in their research, exhausting every resource to ensure they are making the right decisions at every step.

The first one sees Quinn signing over Beth's legal rights to Terry Berry, about a week and a half after her birth. She'd been living with her new dads the whole time, with Quinn always nearby during the day and a phone call away at night. The transition is easier than Quinn had imagined, mostly because Michael and Terry prove to be capable parents. They even make an effort to learn more about Quinn, both as Beth's biological mother and as Rachel's girlfriend.

And the overlap of those roles should be a little weird for everyone involved, but very little shakes the Berrys, and Quinn feeds off that confidence.

The actual adoption process is a little more complicated, but in everyone's minds, Beth Fabray becomes Elizabeth Grace Berry.

The night she signs over Beth's rights, Quinn asks Michael and Terry if she can have a few moments alone with Beth, to say goodbye, and they happily grant her the opportunity.

Quinn takes Rachel into Beth's room, and they kneel near her bassinet. Quinn reaches for Rachel's hand, and before she even says a single word, her eyes grow moist. She reaches into the bassinet to stroke Beth's cheek. Rachel's hand squeezes hers, and Quinn begins to speak, self-consciously at first.

"Beth, listen to me. I know you're too young to understand, and you might never understand why I'm doing this, but—I'm letting Mr. and Mr. Berry be your daddies." Rachel leans into Quinn, her head coming to rest against her shoulder. Quinn holds back a sob. "They're going to take care of you where I can't. They're going to spoil you rotten, and—and teach you important things about life and happiness and beauty. They are good people. Amazing people." Quinn's vision begin to blur, and she squeezes her eyes shut, but that only causes the first tears to roll down her cheeks. "Your daddy loves baseball," she continues, "and he'll take you to ball games and dress you like a little tomboy. Maybe you'll even see the Reds win one in your lifetime, huh?" She laughs tearfully and lowers her voice. "Probably not, but don't tell your daddy I said that. And your papa likes fishing. That's kind of a lame hobby, but you're going to catch the biggest bass in the sea, and—" Sudden sobs wrack her body, and she feels Rachel's arms snake around her torso.

Quinn takes a moment to recollect herself, then takes a deep breath and turns back to Beth. "And let me tell you about your big sister. She—well, you'll find out for yourself soon enough." Rachel nudges her in the ribs, and Quinn laughs softly. "She's taught me so many things about compassion and forgiveness and… and love, and I just know she's going to teach you all that and more." Quinn smiles faintly through her tears. "She's going to be a big star one day. Did you know that? Yeah." Beth coos, and Rachel laughs tearfully from Quinn's shoulder. "She's going to teach you about integrity and loyalty—all the good things, and help you through bullying and discrimination—all the bad things. She's incredible, and I hope you grow to love her as much as I do." Quinn senses Rachel's grip tighten around her, and she leans her head briefly over Rachel's, letting the tears roll freely down her cheeks for a few minutes.

Quinn moves her hand down to hold Beth's tiny fist, and to her surprise, Beth latches onto Quinn's index finger and doesn't let go. It makes Quinn laugh and cry at the same time. She leans closer to the bassinet. "And I love you, baby," she murmurs. "I love you so much. I'm honored to have been your mommy, even only for a few days. It's not that I don't want you, okay? Please, sweetie, if there's only one thing you come to understand, let it be that you were never an unwanted baby. Your mommy made a mistake, but that doesn't mean that you aren't the most beautiful thing to ever come into her life, okay? Because you are. A thousand million times, you are." Quinn brushes the pad of her thumb soothingly over Beth's fingers. "I'll still be around, I promise. Just not as your mom. I hope when you're all grown up and you know the truth, you'll forgive me for what I'm doing."

Quinn leans over the edge of the bassinet and kisses Beth's tummy, then her cheek, and finally her forehead. "I love you, Beth," she whispers.

Rachel holds Quinn for a few more minutes as she cries, and it is cathartic. When the room falls silent, Rachel kisses away the last remnants of Quinn's tears, and Quinn lets go of Beth's little hand.

\--

At the next Glee Club dance rehearsal – the first Quinn attends since before Beth's birth – Rachel and Quinn break the news to their friends.

Finn: Wait, so does that make you Rachel's aunt or something? 'Cause that's kind of creepy.

Puck: No way, dude, that's totally hot. Rachel, your family does all the Jewish stuff, right? Maybe my mom'll finally stop bitching at me for knocking up a non-Jew.

Kurt: Someone reassure me that Rachel has been strictly prohibited from choosing the baby's attire and nursery décor.

Mercedes: Chill. I've met Rachel's dads. They're actually pretty cool.

(Kurt: No facial expression in my repertoire appropriately expresses my shock.)

Tina: I'm really happy for you guys.

Artie: Despite appearances, I'm actually an experienced babysitter, so if you need—no? No, okay.

Mike: As soon as she knows how to crawl, Matt and I are going to teach her how to dance.

Matt: Yeah, gotta vaccinate her against Finn's dancing early.

(Finn, after a moment: Hey!)

Santana: Rachel's kind of a freak, but—

(Rachel: I'm right here.

Brittany: It's okay. Santana's just being affectionate.

Santana: What? No, I'm not.

Brittany: Yeah, remember? You called me a freak when I asked you to do that thing with your tongue, and then I said, that's mean, and you were like—

Santana: Okay, Brittany. Stop. I was not being affectionate.)

Brittany, with a shrug: Love is love.

\--

Some things in life, Quinn learns, are pretty cruel. Like Coach Sylvester's armpit-smelling punishments, or the president of the celibacy club having a baby out of wedlock at sixteen.

But life is about the lemonade, not the lemons, or whatever.

 

 _fin_


End file.
